The Iliad (Penguin Classics) Page 26
‘So leave me now and report my message to the Greek leaders, freely, as is the privilege of advisers. Then they can think up some better way of saving the ships and all their troops beside them, since this plan, which they thought up as a result of my implacable anger, will not work. But Phoenix can stay here and spend the night with us. Then he can embark for home with me in the morning, if he wants to. There will be no compulsion.’
(430) So he spoke, and was received in complete silence by them all. The bluntness of his words had taken them completely by surprise. Eventually the old charioteer Phoenix spoke up, bursting into tears, so afraid was he for the Greek ships:
Phoenix’s speech
’Glorious Achilles, if you really are thinking of sailing home and are so obsessed by your anger that you refuse to save the ships from going up in flames, what is to become of me without you, dear child? How could I possibly stay here, alone? Your father Peleus made me your guardian when he sent you off from Phthia to join Agamemnon. (440) You were a mere boy then with no experience of war, that great leveller, or of debate where men make their mark. It was to teach you all these things, to make a speaker of you and a man of action, that he sent me with you. But I could not bring myself to be separated from you, dear child, not even if the god promised to strip off my years and turn me into the fine young man I was when I first left Hellas with its lovely women.
‘I ran away because of a quarrel with my father, Amyntor. His anger with me was down to a lovely-haired woman he (450) intended to bring home. He was passionate about her, which was humiliating for his wife, my mother. So my mother entreated me to sleep with the woman first, and thus make her dislike the old man. I consented and did so. My father guessed at once and with solemn curses called on the hateful Furies to make me childless, so he would never have to lift a son of mine on to his lap; and over time the gods, Zeus of the underworld and august Persephone, fulfilled his curses.
‘I then planned to put my father to the sword. But one of the (460) gods restrained me. He made me think of public opinion and of the reproaches I would incur, and how the Greeks must not know me as a father-killer. After that, I could not bring myself to remain any longer in my angry father’s house. Naturally, my kinsmen and cousins were all for keeping me there at home and gathered round in entreaty, pleading hard with me. Many fat sheep and shambling cattle with crooked horns were slaughtered; many a fine fat hog was spitted over the flames for singeing; and many a jar of the old man’s wine was drunk.
(470) ‘For nine nights they camped beside me, taking it in turns to go on guard, and keeping two fires burning, one under the colonnade of the walled yard, and the other in the forecourt outside the door of my sleeping-quarters. But on the tenth dark night I broke open the close-fitting doors of my bedroom and escaped. I easily cleared the courtyard wall, and not one of the men or waiting-women on guard saw me. Then I fled far across spacious Hellas and came as a suppliant to fertile Phthia, mother (480) of flocks, and your father lord Peleus. He welcomed me warmly and loved me as a father loves his son, an only, cherished son, heir to a great estate. He made me a rich man and gave me a populous district to rule, and I settled down on the borders of Phthia as lord of the Dolopes.
‘Since then, godlike Achilles, all my loving devotion has gone into making you the great man you are. You would refuse to go out to a feast or touch your food at home unless I was there; I always had to take you on my knees and feed you, cutting up (490) your meat for you and holding the wine to your lips. You would often soak the front of my tunic, dribbling wine all down it -just like a baby! Yes, I went through a great deal for you and worked myself to the bone, aware that the gods were not going to send me a son of my own. So I tried to make you my son, godlike Achilles, so that you would save me some day from a miserable end.
‘Master your tremendous pride, Achilles. You have no need to be so stubborn. Even the gods themselves, for all their greater majesty, honour and power, are capable of being swayed. When someone has gone too far and done wrong, they (500) supplicate gods with sacrifice and soft prayers, libations and burnt-offerings, to turn them from their anger.
The LITAE
‘There are goddesses of supplication, Litae, daughters of almighty Zeus. These Litae are wrinkled creatures, limping, eyes askance, who make it their business to pursue Delusion. But Delusion is strong and sure-footed, because she is quick enough to leave them all behind. Roaming the world, Delusion brings mankind to grief. But the Litae come after and put the trouble right. The man who respects these daughters of Zeus when they approach him is greatly blessed (510) by them, and they listen to his prayers. But when a man hardens his heart and rebuffs them, they go and supplicate Zeus, asking that Delusion accompany the man so that he comes to grief and pays the price.
‘This applies to you, Achilles. You must give the daughters of Zeus that same respect that bends even great men to yield. If Agamemnon had not made you a generous offer with the promise of more to come, but had persisted in his vindictiveness, I would not be asking you to cast your anger to the winds and help the Greeks now, however great their need. But as it is, he is not only offering you a great deal now but guaranteeing much (520) more, as well as choosing the most distinguished men from the whole army to come and supplicate you, men who are your own dearest friends among the Greeks. Don’t scorn their message or their mission here – though up till now, no one could have blamed you in the slightest for your anger.
‘We all know famous stories of the past when great heroes behaved like this and worked themselves up into a fury of rage, yet proved amenable to gifts and yielded to persuasion. I can remember a case myself from long ago. It’s nothing new, but we’re all friends here. I’ll tell you the story.
The story of Meleager
(530) ‘The Curetes were fighting the warlike Aetolians at the town of Calydon, and losses were heavy on both sides. The Aetolians were defending their lovely town of Calydon, and the Curetes doing all they could to sack it. The trouble had been started by the goddess of the golden throne Artemis. She had taken offence when lord Oeneus of Calydon had failed to make her any harvest-offering on the sacred hill in his estate. All the other gods enjoyed rich sacrifices; it was only this daughter of great Zeus to whom he offered nothing. Perhaps he forgot her, perhaps he did not intend to do it – in either case, it was a seriously deluded act.
‘In her rage, Artemis who delights in arrows launched at him a foaming wild boar with flashing tusks, which settled down to (540) do much damage, ravaging Oeneus’ orchards. It strewed the ground with the tall trees it brought tumbling down, rooting them up, fruit and all. But at last Oeneus’ son Meleager killed it. He had to raise huntsmen and hounds from many towns to do this, since the beast was far too powerful to be dealt with by just a few – even so, it still laid many of them on the sad funeral pyre. But then Artemis started the hue and cry of battle over the destination of the carcass: she set the Curetes and Aetolians at each other’s throats over who should be awarded the prize of the beast’s head and shaggy hide.
(550) ’In the war that ensued, as long as Meleager was in the battlefield, things went badly for the Curetes who were unable to hold their ground outside Calydon’s walls, for all their numbers. But many a sensible man at times finds his heart swelling with rage, and this is what happened to Meleager now. He got into a fury with his mother Althaea, withdrew from the fighting and stayed at home with his wife, lovely Cleopatra.
‘ (Cleopatra’s mother was slim-ankled Marpessa, and her father was Idas, in his time the strongest man on earth. Phoebus Apollo once snatched Marpessa away, and Idas took on Apollo (560) with his bow to defend his wife’s honour. When she had been seized by the Archer-god Apollo, Marpessa mourned as a kingfisher does its mate; and that is why, later, Marpessa and Idas had given Cleopatra the nickname Alcyone, kingfisher, because of her mother.)
‘Anyway, Meleager took to his bed with Cleopatra and nursed his heart-rending anger. This anger had been caused by his mother Althaea�
��s curses. Meleager had quarrelled with Althaea’s brother, his uncle, over who should get the prize from the boar-hunt and killed him. So his mother in her grief had (570) begged the gods to kill her son Meleager, falling on her knees, deluging her lap with tears and beating the bountiful earth with her fists as she called on Hades and august Persephone. And the Fury that walks in the dark heard her from Hell, and his heart was implacable.
‘So before long there arose the noise and commotion of the Curetes at the town gates, battering at the walls. And now the Aetolian elders supplicated Meleager to come out and fight. They sent him a deputation of the leading priests and promised him a great gift. They told him he could choose an estate of fifty (580) acres for his own use, half vineland and half open ploughland, to be carved out of the richest part of the lovely Calydonian plain. Again and again the old charioteer Oeneus prayed to Meleager. He stood on the threshold of his lofty bedroom and shook the solid wooden doors, imploring his son. Again and again his sisters and his lady mother supplicated him too, though this only made him more obstinate. Again and again his comrades-in-arms tried, the dearest and most cherished friends he had. Even so they could not win him over.
‘But then the Curetes began scaling the walls and setting fire to the great town, and the missiles started hailing down on (590) he bedroom itself. At that point, Meleager’s well-girdled wife Cleopatra supplicated him in tears. She pictured all the miseries people suffer when their town is captured: they kill the men, fire levels the town, the enemy carry off the children and low-girdled women. Her recital of these disasters touched his heart, and he came out and put on his gleaming armour. In this way, by yielding to his personal feelings, he saved the Aetolians from disaster. But the only result was that his friends gave him none of the many splendid gifts they had earlier offered. He saved them, but got nothing by it.
(600) ’Don’t, I beg you, think as he did; don’t, dear friend, let some god make you follow his example. When the ships are already on fire, it will be all the more difficult to save them. No; come while gifts are still to be had, and the Greeks will treat you like a god. If you plunge into the killing fields with no such gifts, you will not be so respected, even though you turn defeat into victory.’
Swift-footed Achilles replied to him and said:
Achilles’ reply to Phoenix
‘Olympian-bred Phoenix, my dear old friend; I have no need of the Greeks’ honour. I believe I am honoured because Zeus decrees it so, and this will (610) keep me by my beaked ships as long as breath remains in my body and strength in my limbs.
‘And I tell you something else, and you bear it in mind. Don’t undermine my resolution with a display of weeping and wailing designed to curry favour with Agamemnon. You must not side with him, or I, who side with you, may come to hate you. Injure the man who injures me – that’s your duty, if you’re with me; and if you are, then come back and rule my dominions equally with me, share all my privileges.
‘These men will report back to the Greeks. Meanwhile, you stay here yourself – there is a soft bed for you to sleep on – and at daybreak we will decide whether to go home or not.’
(620) He spoke, and quietly signalled to Patroclus with a move- ment of his eyebrows to make up the bed for Phoenix, so that the others might think of getting on their way as soon as possible. Ajax, godlike son of Telamon, now spoke his mind:
Ajax’s speech
‘Olympian-born son of Laertes, resourceful Odysseus, let’s go. It seems to me our mission is doomed to failure, this time at any rate. Bad as the news is, we must report it at once to the Greeks, who are no doubt sitting up waiting for us. Achilles has hardened his once noble heart and (630) become quite unreasonable – no thought for the affection of us, his comrades, who held him in the highest regard in the whole camp. And so obstinate! After all, even in cases of murder a man accepts a blood-price for the death of a brother or a son. And the killer does not even have to leave his country, if he compensates the next of kin, since that compensation holds the family’s anger and injured feelings in check.
‘But you, Achilles – the gods have worked you up into this implacable fury over a girl, one, single girl. And here we are, offering you seven of the very best and a great deal more besides. (640) Be gracious. Respect your obligations as our host. We are under your roof, representing the whole Greek army, and we wish for nothing better than to remain your closest and dearest friends among all the Greeks.’
Swift-footed Achilles replied to him and said:
Achilles’ reply to Ajax
‘Olympian-born Ajax, son of Telamon, leader of men, I agree with pretty much everything you seem to be saying. But my heart swells with anger when I think of what happened and the disgraceful way in which Agamemnon treated me in public, like some refugee who counted for nothing.
(650) ’Go now and make my decision public. I shall not contemplate bloodshed and warfare again until Hector reaches the huts and ships of my Myrmidons, killing Greeks as he comes, and destroys the ships by fire. However keen to attack he may be, Hector will, I think, be halted when he reaches my huts and black ship.’
So he spoke, and each of them took up a two-handled cup, offered a libation and made their way back along the line of ships, with Odysseus at their head.
Patroclus told his men and the waiting-women to make up a (660) comfortable bed for Phoenix as soon as possible. When the women made up the bed as he had ordered with fleeces, a rug and a fine linen sheet, the old man lay down and waited for the coming of divine Dawn. Achilles himself slept in a corner of his well-built hut with a woman he had brought from Lesbos, fair-cheeked Diomede. Patroclus slept in the corner opposite. He too had a companion, fair-girdled Iphis, whom godlike Achilles had given him after capturing steep Scyros, Enyeus’ town.
The envoys reached Agamemnon’s huts and were no sooner (670) inside than the Greek lords leapt to their feet, drank to them in welcome from every side with golden cups and bombarded them with questions. Agamemnon lord of men was the first to speak:
‘Tell me, celebrated Odysseus, great glory of the Greeks – will he save the ships from being burnt or does he refuse? Is that proud spirit of his still in the grip of his anger?’
All-daring godlike Odysseus replied:
Odysseus on failed embassy
‘Most glorious Agamemnon son of Atreus, lord of men, the man has no intention of extinguishing his rage. In fact he is angrier than ever. He rejects you (680) and your gifts. He says you can find out for yourself among the Greeks how to save the ships and men. Meanwhile he threatens to drag his own ships down to the sea at dawn. And he said he advised all the rest of us to sail for home as well: ‘‘You are never going to reach your goal in the steep streets of Ilium. Far-thundering Zeus has stretched out a protecting hand over that town, and its people have taken heart.’’ Those were his words.
‘Of my fellow envoys, Ajax and the two heralds, both sensible (690) men, are here to bear me out. But the old man Phoenix is sleeping there. Achilles pressed him to stay so that he could embark with him for home in the morning if he wished to, though he said there would be no compulsion.’
So he spoke and was received in complete silence by them all. The bluntness of his words had taken them completely by surprise. For a long time they sat there, speechless and dejected. Eventually Diomedes, master of the battle-cry, spoke out:
‘Most glorious Agamemnon son of Atreus, lord of men, you should never have supplicated matchless Achilles and made him such a lavish offer. He is an arrogant man at the best of times, and now you have merely reinforced that arrogance. Well, we’ll (700) leave it to him whether he sails or stays. He’ll fight again when his heart tells him to, and the god moves him.
‘So I suggest we all do what I now propose. For the moment, go to bed – you have satisfied yourselves with the food and wine that a man needs to keep up his strength and courage. When lovely, rosy-fingered Dawn appears, you, Agamemnon, must deploy your infantry and chariots in front of the ships; you must in
spire them; and you must fight in the front line yourself.’
(710) So he spoke, and the leaders all shouted their approval, delighted at the words of horse-taming Diomedes. They made their libations and retired to their several huts, where they lay down and took the gift of sleep.
10
DIOMEDES AND ODYSSEUS: THE NIGHT ATTACK
1–193: Agamemnon and Menelaus cannot sleep for worry about the Greek situation, so they call a council and check on the sentries.
194–298: At the council Nestor suggests a night spying mission on the Trojan camp. Diomedes and Odysseus volunteer.
299–468: Hector invites a Trojan to spy on the Greek camp: Dolon volunteers and sets off. Odysseus and Diomedes catch Dolon, milk him for information and kill him.
469–579: Odysseus and Diomedes slaughter the sleeping Thraciansand their leader Rhesus, take his famous horses and return in triumph.
All the Greek leaders spent the rest of the night by the ships, wrapped in the soft arms of sleep. But Agamemnon son of Atreus, shepherd of the people, had too much on his mind for easeful rest.
As Zeus, husband of lovely-haired Hera, flashes lightning to herald a hailstorm, deluge or blizzard and mantle the fields with snow, or to open the gaping jaws of bitter war, so Agamemnon (10) uttered groan after groan from the depths of his being, and his heart trembled with fear. When he glanced out across the Trojan plain, he was amazed by the innumerable Trojan fires burning in front of Ilium, the music of their various reed-pipes and the voices of their troops. And when he looked at the Greek ships and his own army, he tore the hair from his head by the roots, appealing to Zeus in Olympus, and groaned loud in his great heart.
In the end he could think of nothing better than to go straight to Nestor son of Neleus in the hope that together they might hit (20) on some unbeatable plan for saving the expedition from disaster. So he got up, put on his tunic, bound a pair of fine sandals on his gleaming feet, threw over his shoulders the glossy pelt of a great tawny lion, which came down to his ankles, and picked up his spear.